


The Eldest

by Kat_the_minion



Category: James Bond (Movies), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Multi, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3845809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_the_minion/pseuds/Kat_the_minion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, being the eldest is the hardest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eldest

Of all the things Greg Lestrade had imagined doing with Mycroft Holmes, standing over his dead body was not one of them. The man laid in his bed, looking for all the world as if he was sleeping. But he wasn’t. There was no movement of chest to signify breathe, there was no twitches and sniffles that were so commonly found in those asleep. Instead, there was only stillness. ‘Rigor Mortis should have set in by now’ Greg thought, with only a little hysteria. Behind him, the assistant, Anabell, Erin, Angela? Greg couldn’t remember her name, but the click of Blackberry keys had stopped and sniffles took their places.

“Let me in!” A voice snarled from the front. Greg walked slowly, still in a daze to the front door, and was confronted with a tall, gangly boy with curly hair. For a second, Greg’s heart stopped as he thought ‘Sherlock?’ but a second look showed him to be wrong.

“I’m sorry, who are you? Civilians should stay back.” Greg fell back into the comfort of his position and the words they automatically provided.

“And that’s my brother back there.” The boy, for he barely looked like he was out of Uni, snarled again, tears filling the same pale eyes that were endemic to the Holmes.

“Shit.” Greg murmured, heartfelt. “Sir, I hate to be the bearer of bad news –“

“No. He can’t be dead. He can’t.” The words had left self-assured registers, and moved into those of a small child who’d just been told Santa wasn’t real. “He’s supposed to be alive.” A blond man stepped out of the car and moved to catch the boy as he collapsed against the doorframe.

“I’m sorry. He’s dead. The coroners are confirming it.” His hands forced themselves into pockets, just so Greg wouldn’t reach for the boy and pull him into a hug.

“He can’t be dead. I talked to him yesterday! I was going to talk to him tonight.” Tears ran down those sharp cheekbones that made everyone think of another Holmes.

“You can check, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Do you think it was a murder?” The boy demanded, pushing himself out of strong arms. “It has to be a murder. Were there any notes? It couldn’t have been the conflict in the Middle East, that’s died down. The Sudan – James, where are our biggest conflicts. I’m Felix, by the way.” The boy pushed forward, his movements gaining confidence.

“Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.” Greg said, and waved the blond man forward. Felix glanced back at him, and an ironic smile twisted features that were so similar to Sherlock’s.

“I know. Sherly and My spoke highly of you. In their own way. Where is he again?”

“His bedroom. There were some notes on the table.”

A small procession followed Felix as he entered his brother’s bedroom, and glanced at the woman. “Annie. Where are his notes?”

Tear-streaked face turned to him and pointed to a well-appointed desk in the corner. “He left a letter for you.” Her voice was choked with tears.

“Thank you. Do you think it could have been a result of the conflict in Sudan?” Felix seemed much more confident now, reaching for a letter bearing his name on the table. The confidence didn’t last long. In fact, it was almost like watching a stop-motion photograph of someone collapsing inside themselves, and the blond man moved to Felix’s side, helping him to a chair.

“Q?” He asked, kneeling in front of the boy, his hands catching the other’s.

“It’s my fault. James, it’s my fault. He – he-. He said I’m in a good place with you. That we don’t need him. That he was sorry, that he felt guilty for what happened with Sherlock. James, he didn’t know.” Felix dissolved into tears, clutching Brioni covered shoulders and hiding his face. “He didn’t know.”


End file.
